


Rank Strangers To Me

by LeeAtwater



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Amnesia, Bathtubs, F/M, Flashbacks, Het, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Games, Oral Sex, Slavery, pretentious cultural refences ahoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-14 14:49:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2195880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeeAtwater/pseuds/LeeAtwater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being shot in the head, the Courier can't remember anything about who she was or where she's been. That suits Vulpes Inculta just fine. Now she can be whoever she wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Fallout Kink Meme.

This town was the worst.  
  
Well, not the worst. Nipton was the worst, which is why, in about a week, Nipton would cease to exist. But this particular Mojave hellhole – Goodsprings, they called it – was irritating in an entirely different manner.   
  
Vulpes Inculta had come here to get a good night's rest. He'd just spent three days scouting the area from here to the Mojave Outpost, trying to come up with his next great idea and failing miserably. Vulpes intensely disliked this entire area of the Mojave. Too close to the Bear, too many powder gangers, too many cheap whores. He preferred to get his inspiration from New Vegas and its many outskirts. But he needed to be within a day's walk of Nipton in case something there went horribly wrong before the lottery, and the area around Camp Searchlight … well, he'd already taken care of the area around Camp Searchlight.   
  
So he drifted from camp to cave to abandoned shack, waiting for inspiration to strike. Nipton would fall soon, and he needed a new, interesting way to advance the Legion's causes. He preferred to call these sessions “recharging time”, although Ulysses and Lanius, irritants as always, happily referred to them as “spirit quests.” He'd reminded them several times that they were both tribals themselves, but they chose to ignore him. Thankfully, Ulysses was on another one of those scouting missions without backup or supplies, and hadn't been seen in years. Maybe he'd done the Legion a favor and finally been devoured by yao guai.  
  
The town contained absolutely nothing of interest, aside from a single creepy cowboy-themed Securitron and a strangely-named woman with a pet dog that appeared to hate him for no particular reason. She'd glared at him the moment he came into the seedy little bar that evening, and her dog snarled every time he got up to go outside. Idly, he wondered if she had seen him drinking Sunset Sarsaparilla instead of something stronger and suspected his true allegiance. When she stepped out, he asked the bartender, Trudy, what the woman's problem was.  
  
“Oh, Sunny?” Trudy replied. “She's normally okay. Just had a rough day. All of us have, really. Victor found this girl buried up in the cemetery last night.”  
  
“Is this an unusual occurrence?” Vulpes asked. “It is a cemetery. I imagine that happens frequently.”  
  
“Not when they're still alive, it doesn't. She took two shots to the head, close range. Victor only saw her when she was trying to claw her way out of the dirt. Seemed like a nice lady, so I'm not sure why anyone would do that sort of thing to her. Girl's a fighter, though, tell you that. She even talked a little bit after Doc Mitchell started patching her up. Something about a man in a checkered suit, and revenge, and then she passed out from the drugs. I think she might have been a courier for the Mojave Express who got robbed. She had a delivery assignment on her from them when we found her, but no package.”  
  
Well, now, a courier. Half of the Mojave Express couriers were Legion agents, and a good portion of the rest worked for the NCR. And since she was a woman, she certainly wouldn't be working for the Legion. Which means that there was a good chance that there was an NCR agent, injured and weak and drugged, holed up in this shithole of a town. The possibilities for his stay here had suddenly become a lot more interesting.  
  
“I know a few couriers,” he said, slowly. “What is her name?”  
  
“Don't know,” Trudy replied. “Don't think she does either. She says the only thing she remembers is being tied up and shot by the man in the suit.”

Disappointing. Still, she may have been carrying something of importance, or at least something that identified her allegiance. And if she was NCR, then she possessed information, even if she couldn't remember it just yet. He was good at extracting information. Head injuries healed, particularly with profligate medicine, so perhaps she could recall something of her past that would be of use to the Legion. And if her memory was permanently gone, she might still make a good bargaining piece with the NCR for that idiotic centurion that had allowed himself to be taken alive. Or a plaything for the legionaries. Bringing in an NCR dog was always great for morale.  
  
“Think you might know her?” Trudy asked. “Not to be mean, but we were hoping someone would recognize her and take her home. Don't want whoever tried to kill her coming back to finish the job. And a pretty girl like that shouldn't be out here by herself. There are powder gangers all over here, and Sunny even said she saw some Legion to the southeast.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “You've heard what they do to women, right?”  
  
 _No worse than the drugs and alcohol and degeneracy of Vegas does to them,_ he wanted to say. _Better to serve honestly, as a wife or slave of the Legion, than to be destroyed by their own corruption._ But instead, he took another sip of his drink and said, “I've heard rumors. Mind if I go see this girl? I may know her from my travels. My employers use the courier system extensively. If she's an acquaintance, I'd love to return her to where she belongs.”  
  
“I'm the mayor here,” Trudy said, “but Sunny Smiles is the law. You'll have to ask her.” Trudy paused. “Try to be respectful. Her dog don't like you, and that means she don't like you neither, until you prove otherwise.”  
  
Sunny Smiles was taking potshots at tin cans with what he could tell, even from a distance, was a varmint rifle in terrible condition. Her dog growled when he walked up, and she turned around, narrowing her eyes when she saw who it was. “Oh. You.”  
  
“Have I done something to offend you, Miss Smiles?” he asked, in his most contrite tone.  
  
“Oh, nothing yet, but I'm sure you will, _Mister Fox._ I have a few friends in Nipton, working girls, who've been telling me someone who looks a lot like you, talking all fancy, has been hanging around with their scumbag mayor. Trying to make a deal of some sort. Was that you?”  
  
“Yes,” he said, deciding that honesty wouldn't hurt. And with that strange glint in her eyes, he got the feeling she could see right through him. “I represent the business interests of the Omertas, from the New Vegas Strip. And I happen to agree with you. Mayor Steyn is a corrupt piece of filth, and your friends deserve better. Perhaps we could arrange something so they can ply their trade at Gomorrah, rather than in this backwater village with a disgusting pimp. With a small concession from you.”  
  
“Really.” She glared. “And what sort of concession would that be?''  
  
“I need to see the girl they dug out of the cemetery. I know many couriers in my line of work, and perhaps I can help this one find her way home. She sounds vulnerable here.”  
  
Sunny's eyes hardened. “She sure is. And that's why I'm not going to tell you where she's at. You see, Mister Fox, my parents come from the old ways. Hundreds of years, stories handed down from generation to generation. And the one story I remember most of all is one about a handsome silver-tongued man in a suit, walking into a city like he owns the place, maybe meeting a few people at a crossroads at night, offering a deal that sounds too good to be true. My parents told me who that man really is, and what his promises and his deals and his temptations really get you. Now I don't have a cross on me, Mister Fox, or any holy water, or any of the other things the superstitions say might help. And I don't reckon they would work anyway.”  
  
“I'm not particularly afraid of crosses, Miss Smiles,” he said, coldly.   
  
“No reason to be. That's all just myths. But I do have this gun, and that's as holy as anything else. I'm not a religious woman. I don't believe that there's really a devil that likes walking the earth to mess with people. But I can tell what sort of man you are, Mister Fox, and you're not welcome in this town.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Fine,” Vulpes said, exasperated. “I've been traveling three days. Can I at least buy a room for the night?”  
  
“We don't have an inn here.” Catching his look, she added, “I'm being honest. We don't get enough travelers. Trudy used to have a room she'd sell, but it's a storage closet now. There's a trailer north of the saloon, got a mattress on the floor. For ten caps, you can use it tonight, but once you go inside, I better not see you come out until you leave town, unless it's to take a piss.”  
  
“Deal.” Vulpes handed over ten caps. He considered slipping a denarius in there, just to scare her, but considering her attitude she'd probably just start a firefight in the middle of the city if she came close to suspecting who he really served. He trudged over to the metal trailer, laid down on the disgusting mattress, and tried to think of a plan.  
  
From a hole in the metal exterior, he could see Sunny Smiles heading up the hill to a house. She spoke with the inhabitant, an elderly man, and pointed at his trailer. This must be where the courier girl was holed up. After a short conversation, she spent an hour positioned in front of the bar, occasionally casting glares in his direction. He noticed her rubbing her eyes, and within fifteen minutes she was yawning. Patting her dog on the head, they both headed to a white house across the street. Shortly afterward, the lights in the house went out.  
  
Sunny Smiles, Vulpes decided, was going to have an incredibly unpleasant lifetime, or what little remained of it. There were several assassination squads in the hills from here to Nipton and the Outpost. It would be easy enough to change their orders to capture her, bring her to the degenerate city, and watch as her prostitute friends died on crosses. He wanted to string her up right in the middle of them, but it was a shame to waste an attractive woman of breeding age. He'd slap a collar on her and send her off to Cottonwood Cove, with a strong suggestion that she be gifted to Legate Lanius, after being thoroughly enjoyed by the troops – a mercy in disguise, as slave girls sent to Lanius without any preparation usually died. He'd see how well those piercing eyes saw through him once Lanius had cut them out, as he was wont to do with his women.  
  
But that was all a secondary objective. He needed to talk to this courier and see what she knew. It was too late tonight, and he was sure that several town residents would be keeping an eye on the house on the hill. The sign at the saloon said 'Open 24 hours'.  
  
With a flash of inspiration, he knew what to do. All the ingredients were in his pack, after all. It only took a moment to mix, and then he was up, walking towards the saloon. As Vulpes had expected, Sunny's window cracked open, and the barrel of her pathetic rifle was pointed right at him. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Bathroom, remember?'  
  
“What, you don't wanna just piss on the side of a building like every other man?” she snarled.  
  
“A disgusting habit. I prefer to at least wash my hands. Now, do I have your _permission_ to take a short constitutional?”  
  
A pause. “Fine.” The window shut again.

Rolling his eyes, he walked into the saloon, and was not surprised to find Trudy tending the bar. Late nights seemed to be common in the alcohol business. Trudy smiled as he walked in, and after dealing with Sunny, it was a welcome change in attitude.  
  
“Your friend doesn't seem to much care for me,” Vulpes said, sliding onto a bar stool. “I think I'm being held prisoner in that metal trailer. She said it was the only place in town I could sleep, but somehow I doubt her honesty.”  
  
“You're right on that one, stranger,” said Trudy, pushing a Sarsaparilla across the table at him. “House to the south of the bar is always empty. I think Easy Pete is supposed to live there, but he never stays. He's been out a few days anyway, probably killing some powder gangers for dynamite. Sorry about Sunny. She's had a rough life. You never know what will set her off.”  
  
 _Her life is about to get a lot rougher. But you seem nice enough. Perhaps eventually you'll end up an officer's wife, someone kind like Lucius or one of the softer centurions. Provided you're not foolish enough to fight._  
  
“Can you handle yourself for a moment? Nature calls,” the barmaid asked.   
  
“If I get drunk and disorderly on that Sunset Sarsaparilla, I promise you that you can call in Sunny to blow my head off like she seems so desperate to do.” Trudy smiled, then headed off to the restroom. He made sure everything was in order, then pulled a bottle from his bag and placed it on the counter. Trudy stared at it on her return. “Is that … is that Wasteland Tequila? I've heard of it, but I honestly don't think I've ever laid eyes on one.”  
  
“It is indeed,” Vulpes said, smiling. “As a representative of a New Vegas family, I am often gifted with rare liquors. And since I no longer drink, I fear they'll come to waste just by sitting in my pack.”  
  
“If I might be so kind --” _so polite, you're going to make an excellent slave_ – “why don't you drink alcohol?”  
  
“Miss Trudy, I found a long time ago that the person I become when I drink is not the sort of person I want to be. Not that I judge those who do,” he lied. “The Wasteland is a difficult place. We do what we must to survive.”  
  
“He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man,” said Trudy, a smile tugging at her lips.  
  
“Ah, an educated woman.” Vulpes was genuinely surprised. “Such a rarity these days. You have read Samuel Johnson, then?”  
  
“Nah, just a book about a bunch of jet fiends racing in the desert somewhere around here,” she said, shrugging. “Think it was right at the beginning. Thanks for the liquor.”

Vulpes reached back into his pack and pulled out a large green bottle. “Since you've been so kind, here's another hard to find drink. Absinthe, directly from the Ultra-Luxe.”  
  
Trudy smirked. “Would it surprise you to know that I already own a bottle?”  
  
Since he'd picked the safe in her office earlier, it didn't, but there was no need to disclose that fact. “Perhaps. But this one you can share with your customers. In fact, why don't you share both? Keep half of the tequila for yourself, in a smaller bottle, but for the rest of it and the absinthe … well, drinks are on me tonight. Make sure everyone knows, but don't tell them it was me for a few days. I've somehow developed a terrible reputation in this town thanks to Miss Smiles, and while she's demanded I leave at dawn, I'd like to be able to return at some point without getting shot in the head. Although that seems to be less fatal than you'd think around these parts. How's that girl doing?”  
  
“Made it through the night okay, and seems to be walking around fine,” Trudy said. “From what Doc told Sunny, he practically had to tie her to the bed to keep her from storming out the front door to find the man who shot her.”  
  
“She remembers the man who shot her, but not her own name?” he asked.  
  
“Nope. Doesn't remember anything before about one minute before the bullet, not even where she's from or what she's called. Guess if all you ever remember is being shot twice in the head, it makes sense that all you want to do is find the bastard that did it. Sunny said she's not a bad shot herself, for someone with recent brain damage. Managed to knock a bunch of cans of Doc's wall, then pointed Sunny's own rifle at her and threatened to kill her if they didn't let her leave right away. Since she can barely walk, it wasn't much of a threat. Probably a little too much Med-X.”  
  
“Speaking of Sunny, I should be utilizing your facilities about now,” he said. “I told her I needed a restroom break, and since I've been talking to you for ten minutes, I estimate we've got about five more minutes before she comes storming in demanding to know what I'm doing. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Trudy, and please share my generous gift with the rest of your townspeople.”  
  
Vulpes walked out the door to find Sunny's rifle barrel pointing out the window at him again. “Okay!” he yelled, exasperated. “Fine! Leaving right now. Have a fun life ruling your one-horse town with the iron fist of your poorly-maintained gecko gun.” _I give you about five days, maximum, before you're wearing a slave collar, and two weeks before you're bent over a table getting fucked. In fact, you've just given me an idea about what I'm going to do today._  
  
A few hours later, Vulpes met up with one of the assassination squads south of the city and told them to grab the two women living in the white house in Goodsprings. “Not now, I've got something in the works that needs a few days, but before Nipton. Then take them there to watch the lottery. Leave the dark-haired woman alone, she'll make a fine slave, but do what you want with the red-headed girl as long as she's alive. She offended me. Then take them to Cottonwood Cove for auction. Try to make this as clean and quiet as possible. This isn't about teaching a lesson, it's about … disrespect. Oh, and the red-headed woman has a dog. It might make a good legion mongrel. If not, I'm in need of a new helmet.”


	3. Chapter 3

Vulpes slept the day away in the Nevada Highway Patrol station down the road, recently cleared of enemies. He'd been looking for hideouts in case things went sour tonight, and this one would work … adequately. It didn't have a real bed, just some uncomfortable cots in a jail cell, but he could probably come up with a good story for that. And for the jail cell itself. Actually, if it turns out the courier girl was NCR and had at least a few memories about it, the jail cell would be absolutely perfect. _Courier of the Bear, you've been imprisoned for your crimes against the Legion. Tell me what I want to know or I'll chain you to the bars of this cell and flay the skin off your back. You don't remember? Too bad for you._ Inspiring. But until he found out what she knew, he'd stick to the gentlemanly act he'd pulled in Goodsprings.  
  
He slept deeply, occasionally awakening from the metal bars of the cot digging into his back, and a nagging regret about Trudy. He wondered if it wouldn't have been kinder to bring her to Nipton, then rig the lottery, allowing her to run free back to the Mojave Outpost and tell the NCR of his deeds. But she'd seen him in Goodsprings, seen him asking about the courier they'd found, and if it turned out the girl was NCR, they'd know who to look for. Within a year, the Legion would have taken Goodsprings, and it wouldn't matter anyway. No, this was how it had to be. Perhaps he'd send an order of clemency with her, asking for her to be given as a gift to Lucius or even sent to Flagstaff to train as a priestess.   
  
He dreamed of Sunny's fate once, towards the end, and woke smiling.   
  
Later in the evening, Vulpes watched through binoculars from a hillside near the city's wells as one Goodsprings resident headed out for a drink, quickly followed by several others, then what seemed to be the majority of the town. High-class liquor, given for free, was like nectar for profligates. After most of the others had entered the saloon, a slight, limping figure made her way from the house on the hill towards the town. He tried to get a closer look at her, but saw only bronze skin and a heavily bandaged forehead with strands of dark hair poking through. Up and about three nights after being shot twice in the head, just for a drink? Trudy had been right; the girl was a hell of a fighter.  
  
He counted the people who walked in, and noticed that a rather smaller number walked out, staggering to their homes. Sunny Smiles was one of the few who made it in her door. The old doctor didn't come back, but the courier girl did, practically crawling up the hill to the doctor's house before pulling herself through the front door.   
  
Lanius called poisons and chems 'weapons of women', but Lanius had never seen an entire town reduced to a shivering, weak mass, or a pile of corpses, without a single drop of Legion blood shed. It was one of his favorite strategies. The dissolute would usually crawl over a field of broken glass for a hit of Med-X or a shot of alcohol, so it wasn't surprising that a mix of the two put them down for a good long while. He hadn't spiked the drinks enough to kill, unless someone decided to drain an entire bottle by themselves, and then they'd deserve what they'd get.   
  
When no one had left the bar in an hour, Vulpes slipped down off the ridge and made his way to the doctor's house. Drugged out of her mind as she was, the courier girl hadn't even been able to lock the door, or – as he soon noticed – make it to the bed. She was passed out on the floor of what looked like a clinic, curled up on her side, snoring softly, dressed in a Vault jumpsuit clearly made for a larger woman. Her possessions, such as they were, were spread out on a table behind her, including the Mojave Express note Trudy had mentioned. Vulpes slipped them all into his own bag. He quietly kneeled behind her and picked her up, expecting her to be as limp as a rag doll. What he didn't expect was a hard kick in the ribs when he lifted her onto his shoulder.

“Wha'?” the girl slurred as he dropped her to the ground. “Whozzat? Doc?” She blinked a few times. “Not Doc. Who're you?”  
  
“A friend,” he lied. “I knew you before.”  
  
“Why you here?”  
  
“To rescue you. Come on, let's go.” He went to pick her up again, and she shook her head and held her fists out threateningly.   
  
“I c'n walk m'self,” she said drowsily.  
  
“You get one try, then I'm carrying you.” He pulled her to her feet, let go, and smirked as she instantaneously collapsed, his last-second grab the only thing keeping her from hitting her injured head on the floor. “That was your one try. I'm going to pick you up. Kick me again and I'm dropping you in that schoolhouse for the mantises to gnaw on.” Maintaining this 'I'm your friend' act was going to be difficult if she kept doing things like that. He might have to make some modifications.  
  
She'd passed out again by the time they were out of the doctor's house, and didn't wake up when he carried her into the empty red house and dropped her on the bed. Did no one in this town ever lock their doors? Maybe they would after this week.  
  
While she snored on the bed, Vulpes rifled through her personal belongings. There was nothing that would explicitly identify her as NCR, just a lot of stimpaks, a canteen, coins of various factions and denominations, a gun – he tossed that to the side for the moment – and a machete. An old machete, one that had seen lots of use. He checked the handle to see if it was Legion-made, and was somewhat surprised to find that it was. Chalk one up for the possibly-NCR column, then. Maybe she took it off one of their couriers. Maybe she took it off Ulysses and finally gave him a haircut before lopping off his head. In that case, he'd give her all the caps he had on him, as a reward, and personally help her hunt down the man who shot her.   
  
The only other thing of interest was the delivery order, presumably for the package that was stolen from her. One oversized platinum chip, destined for the Strip. That was definitely familiar. Caesar had asked him to look out for any information on a platinum chip, but had refused to tell him why; a rare circumstance indeed. If this tiny spitfire had any memory left, she had just bought herself a ticket to the Fort. A pity that those tended to be one-way.   
  
Vulpes glanced over at her, and saw her looking back. Pupils pinpoint, gaze unfocused, but still conscious. She must not be much of a drinker compared to the rest of the town.  
  
“What happened?” she said, hoarsely.  
  
“You were shot in the head,” he replied.  
  
“I know,” she said, scratching at her arms. “Man in plaid. Shot me twice. Who are you?”   
  
“I am your employer,” he said.   
  
“You don't look like you run a delivery service,” she replied, beginning to scratch at her bandaging.  
  
“Stop that.” He grabbed her wrist. “I am your other employer.” She scrutinized him with a blank look on her face. “The NCR?” he tried. “New Vegas? Mr. House? Caesar's Legion? Are any of those words jogging your memory?”  
  
“Not in the slightest,” she responded. “You knew me before? What's my name, then? What did I do besides delivering packages?”  
  
“Your name is Victoria,” Vulpes said. He'd always thought it was a nice name, and he liked the double meaning. “And you worked for me.”   
  
“Victoria?” She thought a moment. “It doesn't ring a bell, but it sounds pretty enough.” She was becoming more coherent and less argumentative as the drugs wore off.   
  
“So you don't remember anything,” he said. That was disappointing. With no signs of her affiliation, and no memory of anything from her past, she was pretty much useless. But … she was tied up with the Platinum Chip somehow, and he had a sneaking suspicion that reporting back to Caesar with 'I met someone who was supposed to deliver that Chip you're always asking me about, but I let her go because she had amnesia' would not be seen favorably.

“I remember how to put my pants on and things like that, things that are edible and things that aren't, and I guess I know how to shoot a gun,” the courier girl said. “But I don't know anything about me. The first thing I can recall is watching that fucker in plaid take a platinum chip out of my bag and shoot me in the head. Do you know him? Can we kill him? Can we do it painfully?”  
  
“I do not know who shot you and stole the chip, but I am very interested in finding out, and then killing them painfully,” Vulpes replied. “And don't swear. In our world, women respect men enough not to curse at them, or pester them with incessant questions.” He cursed himself for his own stupidity at the last statement. Why not just hang a sign saying 'I'm with the Legion' from his neck?  
  
“Sorry,” she said quietly, lowering her eyes. He raised his eyebrows. _Or maybe …_  
  
He decided to push his luck. “Sorry, sir, is what you say, if you mean to apologize.”  
  
“Sorry, sir.” Oh, that came out way too fast, and way too smoothly. The girl was from Legion territory. An escaped slave, maybe? He'd have to check her for a brand. Hopefully not. There was only one punishment for escaped slaves, and whatever information was locked up in that shattered brain of hers made her too valuable to wind up on a cross. Plus, sentencing someone to a slow, torturous death for something that they couldn't even remember doing seemed exceptionally pointless.   
  
Vulpes sat down on the bed next to her and took off his hat and jacket. She didn't seem afraid or apprehensive, just vaguely interested in what he was doing. “Tell me the story of what happened, starting with the first thing you remember.”  
  
As she began to speak, her voice losing its hoarse quality and staccato pattern and returning to what must be its natural accent, he closed his eyes and tried to place it. Somewhere south of here, definitely. Thick black hair, bronze skin, eyes a little too light for the rest of her, like they were almost copper. He'd seen people who looked like that on his visits to Arizona. No facial or hand tattoos, so probably not one of the tribals who still hid in the mountains. Two Sun, or somewhere close by, he decided. Most likely born after the Legion conquered the area. A free woman, but one used enough to the customs of their life to know her place, deep down in her subconscious. But something had happened and she'd come to enemy territory, learned to fight, to curse, to drink; she'd taken a dangerous job and paid the price. She'd lost any protection she might have had by joining up with the profligates. The girl could just as easily be dragged off to Cottonwood Cove and sold with the other women in town.   
  
But that would be such a waste. A blank slate, but an obedient one, for now. She could be put to good use. More than one good use, if he was being honest with himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Joshua Graham – it couldn't hurt just to think the name, as long as he didn't say it out loud – had once had a mistress named Elena. Technically, she was a slave, but her demeanor and status were so different from the usual camp slaves that it was easier to think of her as a mistress. She was bright and cheerful, rather than broken and silent like the others, and obeyed Graham's every command enthusiastically and without question, no matter how depraved. And knowing Joshua, they could get pretty damned depraved at times.  
  
It was after one of the more intense sessions he'd witnessed, involving Elena and another slave girl eagerly abusing each other on top of Joshua's bed for their viewing pleasure, that he asked Joshua how he managed to find himself such a … unique companion.   
  
“You're young, Inculta,” the former missionary had said, shifting in his seat. “You'll learn soon that women like Elena are made, not born. You just need to put in the time, and the effort, and you can make a girl into whatever you want. For example, Elena here was a Brotherhood of Steel paladin two years ago.”  
  
“Are you joking?” Vulpes asked, leaning over slightly to observe the lean, tanned woman currently sucking his cock with great enthusiasm. Elena, eyes glittering with good humor and lust, ran her tongue up and down the underside of his length, then released him from her mouth with a gentle suck and a popping sound.   
  
“No, I was with the Brotherhood,” Elena responded. “My master convinced me to change my ways. I suffered greatly, but I would say it was worth it in the end. Wouldn't you agree, sir?” She cupped his balls and he groaned.  
  
“Oh, I'd say he agrees, although he may not be able to voice it at this time,” Graham said, smirking. “Return to your ministrations, Elena, and there will be a reward for you at the end.” She did as instructed, licking her tongue around the head of his cock as sweetly as if it were a lollipop.   
  
Joshua continued, “Men of the Legion are skilled at breaking women, but few know that to obtain a truly exceptional slave, you must build them up as well. Break them down to their base level, to a shattered husk, and that's where most men will leave them. You might as well be fucking a corpse at that point, and what's the use of that? But after you destroy their preconceived notions about themselves and their place in the world, you need to give them a purpose again, and weave a new existence for them, primarily centered around you. At first, I tried to convert Elena to the Legion's ideals, but that didn't work very well. Elena, what do you think about the Legion? Be honest.”  
  
She removed her mouth from Vulpes's groin and said, “The Legion is a band of thugs, led by misogynistic sociopaths, and the world would be better off if you were all dead.” Then she gently kissed the tip of his cock and slid it back into her warm, willing mouth.

For once, Vulpes had nothing to say. That kind of talk would land even a centurion on the cross, but Joshua just smiled and treated it like it was an everyday occurrence.   
  
“It took about four months to break Elena down, and then twice that time to build her up again,” Joshua said. “Some of that was teaching her her current skills, but most of it was recreating her personality. She has no love for the Legion, as you can see, but she is utterly devoted to me. She serves with not only her body, but her heart and her mind, as well. It is ...” the Legate struggled for an analogy, and motioned Elena to stand up. “It is like pottery. First you have to smash the pot, grind it into pieces so there is nothing but the raw clay, and then use rewards and punishments, pleasure and pain, to mold the new vessel. I have no doubt that Elena here would slit her throat in a second if I commanded her to.”  
  
“And do you command that, master?” the woman asked.  
  
“Of course not, darling,” Joshua said, a genuine smile on his face. “You are the most precious thing in my life. I would be utterly lost without you.” Then he slapped her hard, across her ass, and she moaned in pleasure. “Now take Inculta here to bed and ride him like a brahmin. I would like to hit you with my riding crop, not severely enough to do permanent damage, and then fuck you in the ass while he takes you. Would you like that, pet?”  
  
“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, please.” There was nothing in her voice but sincerity as she grabbed Vulpes by his tunica and dragged him onto the tangled sheets, kissing him like a starved woman, hands reaching between their bodies to line him up.  
  
“Do you want me to be gentle?” asked Graham, watching as Elena slowly slid down onto Vulpes's cock, one hand on his chest to steady herself, the other shamelessly rubbing her clitoris.  
  
“God, no, make it hurt, master,” she moaned. “Make me bleed for you.”  
  
Graham caught Vulpes's gaze, beginning to cloud with lust, and smiled. “See? Better than a hundred slave girls who just lie there, dead souls, dead minds. Most men in the Legion do not have the patience for this type of project, but I strongly suspect you have the aptitude. We'll discuss it more later.”  
  
They never got around to discussing it, and never would, because after the disaster at Hoover Dam a few weeks after that incident, Joshua was lit on fire and thrown into the Grand Canyon. Within two days, Elena had found a knife and cut her own wrists and throat.   
  
He'd always wanted to try, but never had the energy to devote so much time to one companion, not when there were fresh girls brought into the camp every week. But this one … the bullets had done half the work for him, turned her into the fresh clay Joshua described. If molded properly, she could be whoever, _whatever_ he wanted, both in work and in pleasure. A devastating source of intelligence and a shameless whore for him. It could be beautiful. He'd start tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

“So who are you, and what do we do, if I really work for you?” asked the courier girl, jerking Vulpes back into the present.  
  
“I'm Mr. Fox, and officially, I represent the business interests of the Omertas,” he said. “They run a casino on the Strip in New Vegas.” She stared at him with a blank look. “The city. The shiny thing with lights, in the distance?”  
  
“I know what a city is,” she said. “What does me delivering packages has to do with them? Is that why I got shot?”  
  
“Probably,” he said, shrugging. “Most couriers of the Mojave Express are working for political interests, as are you. It's better if you do not know anything more specific for now. The man who shot you stole something that is, apparently, very valuable to at least two of those interests. I believe you said you wanted revenge?”  
  
“Of course I do,” the girl snarled. “He shot me in the head! Twice! Buried me in a shallow grave! Wouldn't you want some payback?”  
  
“Hold your temper, girl,” he drawled, and smiled as she tried to unclench her fists. “But yes. I would. And you will have yours. You'll be taking a break from your duties as a courier. Call it worker's compensation. Go after the man who shot you, find out what he knows, then kill him. And retrieve the platinum chip.”  
  
“What makes you think you can just order me around?” she snapped. “I don't even remember working for you. As far as I'm concerned, I'm a free agent now.” She yelped as he grabbed her arm and pulled her off the bed. Her legs still weren't working in conjunction with her brain, and she fell to her knees. Perfect positioning.  
  
“Isn't killing him what you were going to do anyway?” Vulpes hissed in her ear, crouching down in front of her. “Besides, as you well know, it is a dangerous world out there. Full of dangerous creatures, dangerous men, who would love to take advantage of an innocent like you. You can't even remember your own name! You'll stumble into the first trap you come across.”  
  
“I wouldn't.”  
  
“You already did.” Before she could process that, he pulled her face up and kissed her, hard.   
  
Her kiss was warm, soft, hesitant at first, then enthusiastic. It had been too long since he'd been able to do this without worrying about a bite. After a while, she parted her lips slightly, and he felt comfortable enough to loosen his grip and slide to the floor with her, the hand that had been twisting her arm now moving to the back of her head to tangle in her long hair. She broke away, gasping.  
  
“So it's that sort of business we're in, is it?” she spat, her voice dripping with acid.  
  
“No. You are not a whore, and I am not your pimp,” Vulpes said icily. “The Omertas may deal in that kind of trade, but we do not. We deal in information. Any ...” he trailed his free hand down to her hip. “Any personal relationship we may have goes beyond employment.”  
  
“We're what, then? Lovers?”  
  
“You belong to me,” he said simply, stroking her hair.  
  
The courier girl scoffed. “Maybe I want to belong to myself. I'm not your slave.”  
  
 _You will be if you keep this attitude up,_ Vulpes wanted to say. Instead, he moved his hand from her hip to her stomach and gently pushed her onto her back, leaning into her. “True. But a woman needs a man.” He brushed his lips against hers. “Does this not feel right to you?” Planting a line of kisses down the curve of her throat, he sucked at her pulse point and felt her breath hitch. “Is this not the natural order of things?” Vulpes slid his leg between hers, and was pleased to see her squirm against his thigh in need. _Gods bless Legion indoctrination. Even when the mind objects, the body reacts._  
  
He began slowly unzipping the top of her oversized Vault jumpsuit, and had to restrain himself when she batted away his hands. “I'm filthy,” she breathed.  
  
“Mmm,” he purred, pressing his thigh further into her apex and delighting at her gasp of pleasure. “You certainly are.”  
  
“No, I mean literally filthy,” the girl said. “I climbed out of my own grave. I need a shower.”  
  
Vulpes rolled off of her and leaned back, resting his head on his hands. “I believe there's one in the next room.” The moment the courier girl tried to stand, she clutched her head and bent double before falling back to the ground.  
  
“Might you need a little assistance with that shower?” he asked, smirking.


	6. Chapter 6

Vulpes could almost see the phrase “I can do it myself” form and die on her lips. She'd clearly been expecting to shrug off this injury a lot faster than she had been able to so far. With two bullets in the head, it was astonishing that she was even able to breathe on her own, much less jump out of bed and set out on a revenge quest. Too much reliance on profligate chems. The body needed time to heal. Of course, spiking the town's drinks probably hadn't helped her balance any. Heh.  
  
“No need to be shy,” he said. “It's nothing I haven't seen before, after all.”  
  
“This is embarrassing,” she said, blushing, as he helped her up. “I'm all bloody and dirty and scarred up.” If she thought that would scare him off, she was heading down the wrong path.  
  
“Nonsense. There's no shame in accepting help from others. And scars are just signs of battles you've won. Unless you want to crawl to the shower, I suggest you put your arm around my shoulders.” Hesitantly, she did. “Good girl. Let's go. Some warm water will make everything better.”   
  
Thank Gods, the water was running and hot, a rarity in some of these decrepit Wasteland towns. The courier girl was getting a little woozy again from standing up, at least judging by the way her head lolled to the side when he set her down on the floor. “Come on, tough girl. Get the suit off.” She tried to fumble with the zipper, but her hands were shaking too hard to do anything. He frowned. Obviously, she wasn't going to be able to stand up for more than a few seconds, not nearly long enough for a shower. Pity. He had been planning on pinning her against the wall, face-to-face, and wrapping those long, lean legs around his hips, the water beating down on both of them as he fucked her slowly and deeply. But he could improvise. The bathtub looked equally inviting, and he began to fill it with hot water.  
  
He helped her unzip the horrid, baggy canvas Vault suit, interested in seeing what treasures were hidden beneath. The doctor had apparently tried to clean her up with a washcloth, but dirt and blood were still smeared across her chest and abdomen, collecting in rivulets across her many scars. She had a lot of scars, a few slashes that could be attributed to fighting wildlife and raiders, but Vulpes counted at least two old gunshot wounds and what looked a hell of a lot like a cluster of healed cigarette burns on the left side of her chest. Almost too many injuries for a regular courier.   
  
She could be NCR, still, he reminded himself. Or even Brotherhood. Not that it mattered if she didn't remember a thing. And if she suddenly did regain her memory … well, she was unarmed, drugged and couldn't stand up without passing out. Any fight she tried to put up would be over in a matter of seconds, and that abandoned highway patrol station up the road still had its nice, secure jail cell available. He'd had some of his people bring supplies up there today, in case he needed to use it for interrogation in the future. The girl wouldn't enjoy it, but he certainly would.

Beneath the dirt and blood and scars, her skin was bronze and smooth. It almost seemed to glow in the faint light of the bathroom. He took advantage of the zipper placement to run his hand over one of her breasts, admiring the swell, the pert brown nipple that hardened slightly at the cool air and more at his touch.  
  
“Hey now,” the courier girl said, laughing shakily. “Thought I was going to shower?”  
  
“You fall over every time you're standing upright for more than a few seconds,” he informed her. “Too much blood loss. We'll have to use the bath so you can lie back.”  
  
“Mmm. Okay.” She sounded drowsy again. He'd have to get her some water, or a blood pack, or something to wake her up a bit. He let her slump back against the wall and retrieved a few bottles of purified water from the refrigerator. “Drink one of these and I'll get the rest of the jumpsuit off.”  
  
Vulpes resisted the temptation to touch as he unzipped the suit down to the ankle, then peeled it off of her. But there was no harm in looking. She was half away with the fairies anyway, and what half was here was trying to concentrate on not spilling the water bottle. No brand on her stomach or back, so not an escaped slave. Short and slightly too thin for his tastes, but with enough muscle in her thighs and ass to give her some fetching curves. Constantly wandering the Wasteland was a damn good workout for the lower body. As for the rest, well, he planned on exploring that later. After the bath. Or maybe in it.  
  
“Done with your water, Victoria?”  
  
She waved the empty bottle at him in response and smiled, her eyes slightly more focused. Quickly, he unbuttoned his shirt and began removing the rest of his clothing. She scowled at him. “What are you doing?”  
  
“If you pass out in the bathtub, you will drown,” he said, trying to sound exasperated and not excited. “As your employer, I have a vested interest in not letting you die.”  
  
The water must have been doing its job, because she was able to pull herself to a sitting position. “Yes, I'm sure you're doing this for entirely altruistic reasons,” she snapped.  
  
“I did just rescue you,” he said, lifting her up and setting her gently in the tub. “I spoke with a few of those townspeople, and it seems a couple of them were quite interested in selling you to the powder gangers in exchange for protection for their town. I assume you can guess what those thugs probably would have done with you. Don't I deserve a bit of a reward?” He slid in behind her and pulled her to him. “Don't I deserve some thanks?”

“How about I write you a note, or maybe buy you a new tie?” Her words were sharp, but she relaxed back into him when he rubbed a soapy washcloth over her shoulders.  
  
“I prefer rewards that are more immediate. And as I said before, we are lovers.” The 'you belong to me' hadn't gone over very well, and if she was from Legion territory, there was a fairly obvious reason why. He probably should have thought that through a little more. “I'd like to make sure that nothing important has been irreparably damaged.”  
  
“Aside from my brain, you mean.”  
  
“It's remarkable how pliable the human mind can be,” Vulpes said, glad she couldn't see his faint smirk. “It can sustain the most severe damage, physical or psychological, and bounce right back to a functioning condition. Of course, some things may be changed, permanently, but change isn't necessarily a bad thing.” He was rubbing the soap over her chest now, taking the opportunity to shamelessly fondle her breasts. She raised no objections, only arched into him slightly, bringing her rear into contact with his hardening cock. “Does that feel good, Victoria?”  
  
“Mmm-hmm,” she hummed, tuning out slightly.   
  
“Lean further back.” She stretched and laid her head against his shoulder. Vulpes swept her long hair to the side, and she bared her neck to him, almost in submission. He rewarded her with sucking, then a stinging bite that didn't break skin but did make her moan. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he brought the one containing the washcloth between her legs. Instead of tensing, she relaxed further, spreading her legs and pushing back against his cock. After a minute of perfunctory cleaning with the soapy washcloth, he dropped the pretense and slid a finger inside her.  
  
So tight and hot, like an inferno, and it was amazing to see a woman arch into his touch and moan instead of struggle and scream. Not that he was opposed to the latter, but this was different. As Joshua had told him, it took a delicate balance of pleasure and pain to create a worthy companion, and what with being shot in the head, she'd had enough pain lately. The girl did wriggle a bit when he added a second finger, but his soothing murmurs in her ear and, more importantly, his thumb rubbing her clitoris, quickly turned any discomfort into pleasure.  
  
Vulpes couldn't wait much longer. He hooked his forearms under the girl's shoulders and lifted her up, sweeping her into his arms, and carried her into the bedroom, tossing her onto her back on the bed. She looked delectable, wet and warm, eyes shining with lust. He could just eat her up. _What a good idea._


	7. Chapter 7

When he spread her thighs open and kissed his way up from her calf, past her knee, she began to breathe slightly faster, but stiffened and tried to pull away when his mouth trailed to where her inner thigh met her pelvis.  
  
“Is something wrong?” Vulpes asked, but he got the feeling he already knew the answer.  
  
“Using your mouth on me … it's not right,” she said. “I don't know why, but it feels ... unnatural.”  
  
 _Let me guess. A man should not service a woman in that way, because it degrades him to her level, and he receives no pleasure in return._ He was particularly proud of his hand in crafting that little piece of doctrine, the result of a late and wicked night spent with Joshua and Elena which ended with them all tangled up in the sheets and laughing like jet fiends. Spread a belief like that among the recruits, Joshua had said, and it would become the norm within a year. And then when you did it anyway, the girl would think she was special enough that you were willing to break your own rules. Elena had added that last bit, just prior to demonstrating exactly how much pleasure a man could receive by making a woman moan and shudder with his lips and tongue. Quite a lot, as it turned out. Any man who derived no satisfaction from watching a girl come undone in his arms was barely a man at all.  
  
“This feels quite natural to me,” Vulpes said, pulling away for a moment, only to snake his fingers between her thighs. “I enjoy it, and you seem to as well.”  
  
“I thought you said you wanted me to thank you,” she breathed as he smoothly slipped his index and middle fingers into her, curling them upward and stroking gently. “Shouldn't I be doing something for you?”  
  
“Don't worry, you will. But we must keep in mind the limitations of your injuries,” he said. She made a small sound of disappointment, and Vulpes raised his eyebrows, then took the opening. “Would you be happier if I pushed you to your knees, ordered you to suck me, then flipped you over and took you like a dog?” From the sudden surge of wetness around his fingers, she didn't seem to mind that at all. “How about if I tied you to the bed and left bite marks all over those exquisite breasts of yours, then fucked you raw and bloody until you couldn't even scream?”  
  
That statement was edging dangerously close to the truth, and he looked up sharply to make sure she wasn't about to kick him in the face and try to run. Instead, he found her eyes closed, light gasps issuing from her mouth as she stroked her own breasts and tightened on his fingers inside her. _Depraved. Degenerate. Perfect._ “Really. I'll keep that in mind for later. But for now, let me please you.”  
  
He kissed her abdomen, then lowered his mouth to her sex, licking and stroking as his fingers moved within her The sharp intake of breath she made when he flicked his tongue across her most sensitive spot, followed by a guttural moan, was almost enough for him to climb on top of her then and there. But he wanted to hold off until she'd come at least once.  
  
It didn't take long. He added a third finger, then curled them upward harshly, as he latched onto her clitoris and sucked, worrying it with his tongue. She arched off the bed and bit back a yelp, the skin on her chest flushing a delicious rose. He kept up his movement until she asked, then begged, for him to stop and let her breathe.  
  
“I could devour you alive,” Vulpes said. “Sweeter than agave nectar.” The courier girl blushed and smiled shyly, then gave him a devilish grin. “May I return the favor, Mister Fox?”  
  
“Were this a usual encounter, I would have had you take me in your mouth from below while I pleasured you,” he informed her. “You do seem to enjoy that positioning. But --” he grasped her hand and brought it to his cock, and smiled as she encircled it with her fingers. “I am not a small man, as you can tell. With that head injury, I'd hate for you to choke and pass out if I thrust too deeply.” She shuddered in a mixture of fear and lust, and he smiled. “We'll have to stick to more prosaic activities tonight. But I'm sure we can make them interesting enough. Get on your hands and knees on the bed, girl."

As soon as the courier girl repositioned herself, he smacked her ass, hard. She yelped and tried to sit up, but soon fell back on her hands and knees. She was getting dizzy again, Vulpes noticed. He'd make her drink some more water soon, and then have her lie back … after this. He hit her other cheek, smiling at the red marks left behind, and she glared at him over her shoulder.  
  
“What was that for?” she snapped.  
  
“The first one was for doing whatever foolish activity led to you getting yourself shot in the head in the first place,” Vulpes said evenly.  
  
“And the second one?”  
  
“For forgetting about me. Drink the water on the table and then lie back.”  
  
As she drank, he considered how tonight had gone so far. Pretty damn well, as far as he was concerned. He'd managed to restrain himself to more pleasurable activities while still hinting enough at his true proclivities for her to notice. And from how wet she'd gotten when he mentioned tying her to the bed, she had a dark streak of her own that he could nurture in time. His initial impression had been right; the girl was definitely from Legion territory. The 'sir', the obedience, the blush when he gazed at her naked form, the reluctance to take pleasure without giving any in return. A veneer of toughness, stretched over a core of sweet submissiveness and a keen intellect. The girl reminded him of Elena, and he felt a brief pang of sadness for his lost friends.  
  
One night, after Joshua had fallen asleep, he'd stayed up late with Elena, running his hands through her long brown hair as she planted kisses across his chest.  
  
“Do you ever think about escape?” he asked her quietly.  
  
“Never,” she replied. “This is my place now.”  
  
“But you hate the Legion. You hate Caesar. You hate everything we stand for. Would you not go back to the Brotherhood of Steel, if you could, and fight us?”  
  
For a moment, she looked lost, her eyes staring at some imperceptible point in space before she refocused. “No. The paladin in me died a long time ago. I hate the Legion, but I love Joshua, and I believe he feels the same.” She reached out and stroked her sleeping lover's cheek. “As much as people like us are capable of that emotion.” She smiled and laid back against the pillows, pulling Vulpes down to nestle in her arms.  
  
“And do you hate me?” he asked.  
  
“I tolerate you, Inculta,” she said, her smile breaking into a wicked grin. “Because you amuse me, and you're good in bed. If the world were upside-down and this was an Amazon matriarchy, Joshua would be my husband, and you would be my concubine. I'd keep you on a leash and have you hand-feed me grapes all day, and service me all night with that silver tongue of yours.” She reached between them, her hand encircling his erection. “Oh, I can see how much that idea offends you.” Elena guided him inside her, and they both moaned as she bit down on the side of his neck and ground against him as he slid into her to the hilt. He glanced to the side, and saw Joshua open his eyes slightly, wink at him, then return to pretending to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

But this was here and now, and this was a different girl, one who had yet to become his Elena. The potential was there, though. She'd finished the water bottle and was looking slightly more alert, eyes on him, anxious and needy all at once as she lay back on the pillows. He'd have to look away when he slid into her, or he'd have trouble pretending that they'd been lovers all along. Actually, there was one situation in which it would be pretty much impossible to pretend they'd been lovers all along. He'd have a hell of a time talking his way out of it if she bled. On the other hand … Vulpes imagined the look in her eyes when she realized he'd been playing her, the anger and snarled insults as she tried to fight him, and how he'd pin her to the mattress and fuck her anyway until she moaned and came and called him 'sir' again. It was always good to have a backup plan.  
  
The girl smiled, rare and genuine. “Well? What are you waiting for?” she asked.  
  
“Wanton minx,” he accused, before falling upon her.  
  
There was no time for gentle kisses and caresses, his fervent need and their already naked state making him feel like his skin was on fire. The girl ran her hands across his shoulders and back while he nipped and bit at her breasts, moving up to suck on the delicate skin of her throat while his fingers continued his caresses. He squeezed one breast and heard her moan, a deep, delicious sound of pain and pleasure mixed. He wanted more noises like that. Vulpes trailed his head down lower and bit into her inner thigh, hearing that same sound, only higher-pitched. He teased her with his fingers and tongue, but only for a moment, to make sure she was properly wet. Then he spread her legs out, one to each side of him, and looked up at her.  
  
Victoria was lost in hazy bliss, trying to reach for his hair to guide his movements but instead petting whatever body part she happened to land on. Off with the fairies again, for the moment, but when Vulpes called her name, she focused right on him. He pulled himself up so they were face to face, so she could feel his cock pressed against her, threatening.  
  
“I'm going to fuck you now, Victoria. I'm going to make you beg for more and scream. But most importantly, I'm going to make you admit that you're mine.” His voice was nearly a growl, hoarse with lust.  
  
The girl smiled and pulled him in for a very unexpected kiss. She continued it, holding onto his head and neck with both hands while he lined himself up against her cunt. When he next made eye contact with her, she smiled and said. “I'm yours, Vulpes. Now that the _most important part_ is over, can you just fuck me?”  
  
He snarled in triumph and pushed in, ignoring the warning sirens that were coming from the small part of his brain that weren't completely focused on fucking the courier into the ground. Gods, she was so tight, and she winced in pain as he tried to force the head of his cock into her cunt. With a little manipulation, she loosened enough to take him. The dark groan of agony, arousal and fulfillment, he decided, was his new favorite sound from her. He pressed deeper, until his hips were almost flush against hers, then stayed seated while she whined and adjusted to his size.  
  
“Does it hurt?” he asked.  
  
“A bit,” she responded shyly. “But it feels good too.”  
  
“That means it's been too long since I've had you. Once things are in their rightful place, every night will be like this. But now I need to take you, and I need to do it hard, to claim what's mine. Tell me if it hurts and I'll consider stopping.”  
  
“What if it hurts but feels good at the same time?”  
  
 _Then, my little prodigy, you might just be what I'm looking for._

“Concentrate on the good,” he said, forcing himself to look relaxed. “Are you ready?”  
  
She bit her lip and nodded as he started a steady pace. “With this much teasing, I won't last long,” he informed her. “But I would like to see you take your pleasure again.” He rolled onto his back, bringing the surprised girl to sit atop him. “Ride me and touch yourself.”  
  
This normally wasn't Vulpes's cup of tea – he much preferred being on top or behind a woman. But something about this one made him want to see as much of her body as possible. And what a show she put on, rocking back and forth hesitantly at first, then increasing her movements as she grew more comfortable. He pinched at her nipples and she gave that deep groan he was beginning to like so much. She placed one hand on his stomach to steady herself as she began to ride him faster, then moved the other one to where they were joined, rubbing her clitoris, slowly at first, then fiercely. He spanked her again, lightly, and bit back a moan of ecstasy when she clenched and reared against him, inner muscles tightening and squeezing him as she came again. He pulled her flush to him, tangled her fingers in her hair and kissed her until she relaxed.  
  
Deftly, Vulpes rolled them until he was on top. He'd been almost too charitable with the girl, really. A little darkness was called for, just for him this time. His fingers dug into her hips, hard enough to bruise, as he increased the pace and bit at her neck, her breasts, her shoulders. He pulled her hips up and thrust harder, to where he was sure she'd be sore in the morning. Thankfully she didn't seem to mind, still coming down from the aftershocks of her own orgasm, occasional moans or breathy sighs her only sounds. Something was still nagging at him, begging him to pay attention, but it was easy enough to put that aside with this warm, willing girl beneath him.  
  
It wasn't long until he tensed and came with a long hiss, nails scraping across her thighs hard enough to raise welts. Intellectually, he knew he should have pulled out – and she had probably wanted him to, judging by the way she'd been pushing at his shoulders – but it was satisfying to feel that he'd left a mark on her. Wasteland girls weren't exactly known for their fertility, anyway. It was something about all the radiation.  
  
He wanted nothing more than to stay there until the morning. But who knew when the rest of the town would be awakening from their drugged and drunken stupor? And he had a strong feeling that Sunny Smiles, at least, would suspect something was wrong and would be heading to the doctor's house immediately upon waking. The woman was far too perceptive for her own good. He'd head back to the highway patrol station, take a nap, then meet up with his men to discuss final preparations for the lottery. But first, he had to lay a bit of groundwork.

"Leaving so soon?” she asked as he rolled off her and began to dress, and just that question was almost enough to make him slip back into the bed. With utmost control, he buttoned up his shirt.  
  
“As much as I hate to, yes, for now. Sunny Smiles has expressed a particular distaste for my presence in this town, and she advised me last night that there would be severe consequences if I stayed. I'll help you back up to the doctor's house if you can walk. Drink another bottle of water first.”  
  
She grabbed one from the bedside table and took an audible gulp, before sliding out of bed and redressing in the Vault jumpsuit. Her gait was still unsteady, but she was able to walk, leaning heavily on him, back to the unlocked door of the doctor's house. He helped her to the bedroom, where she drank another bottle of water before collapsing onto the mattress.  
  
“I might work for you,” she said groggily, “and apparently do other things for you, but I'm still going to find the bastard who shot me before I even think about anything else.”  
  
“That is an excellent idea,” he said. “I believe Trudy said that someone saw a man in a checkered jacket and companions heading southeast towards Primm. You can pick up the trail from there.”  
  
“What about my job?” she mumbled.  
  
“For the time being, just keep your ears open for anything … interesting,” he said. “I'll meet with you once a mo-- week, so you can keep me up to date. Listen to everything, but trust no one. Keep following the man who shot you, and when you find him, kill him and take the Platinum Chip. I'll let you know more about the chip's purpose later.”  
  
“Meet again in a week?” The girl was almost asleep. “Where?”  
  
“Don't worry, I'll find you. Oh, there's a town to the southeast you might want to avoid. I've heard it's filled with criminal scum who might just want to hurt you. I think it's called Nipton. Just detour around it.” Under his breath, he added, “You'll know it from the smoke.”  
  
A soft snoring noise let him know that the girl had gone back to sleep. He stroked her hair, then left the doctor's house through the back door. It was a short walk back to the highway patrol station, but he was bone tired by the time he got there. Maintaining a halfway respectable facade took a lot out of him. Without even bothering to change his clothing, he passed out on the uncomfortable jail cots.  
  
Three hours later, he jerked awake, suddenly realizing what his brain had been trying to tell him back in Goodsprings.  
  
 _She called you by your name._  
  
 _You never told her that._


	9. Chapter 9

Genevieve Holloway, known as Jenny to her few friends, had been having a hell of a run of bad luck lately. Her last job, which she'd been informed would be a cinch, ended up with her getting shot in the head and buried in a graveyard. She'd awoken in a town of rubes without a single damn casino, instead of in the New Vegas suite that she'd promised herself she'd rent for a night when her delivery was finished. And to top it all off, she had to run into not just some asshole legionary, but one of the head asshole legionaries.   
  
Christ, she'd left Tombstone behind for California to get away from those fuckers, and now one of the leaders had taken some sort of personal interest in her, or at least in that platinum chip. Carrie Boyd, who was still her best friend from boot camp despite their different paths in the NCR, would find it hysterical. Sorry, that was Lieutenant Boyd now, Miss Military Police Bad-Ass. As opposed to Corporal Holloway, Miss Not Very Good At Respecting Authority. She strongly suspected that Seventh Recon had sent her undercover with the Mojave Express just so they wouldn't have to deal with her trying to apply for the Rangers anymore. Well, she'd see how the Rangers liked her when she went to talk to Chief Hanlon with that platinum chip in her hand, and all of the information she could weasel out of her new Legion fuckbuddy.  
  
She could have used the rest of Seventh Recon the past few days, or a whole damn squad of Rangers. Trying to deal with one of the NCR's most wanted while drugged and injured had taken a lot out of her. She'd slipped on the yes-sir-good-girl persona she'd worn while interacting with legionaries back in Arizona as soon as she'd recognized him, pretended that she still didn't remember anything, and it had taken things down … well, down a weird path. Not necessarily a bad path, though. It had been pretty fun, when she thought about it. Certainly better than what would have happened if she'd let her allegiance slip.   
  
Jenny could see the horrified look on Colonel Moore's face if she ever found out that one of her precious undercover recon girls had willingly slept with the enemy. Moore hated any suggestion that the women of the NCR intelligence might possibly have options that the men of the NCR intelligence didn't. Colonel Stick Up Her Ass probably would have wanted Jenny to declare her love for the NCR and then voluntarily climb up on a cross. Fuck that shit. Do what you can to stay alive, and then get out of Dodge. Which is why Jenny decided to leave Goodsprings the moment Inculta walked out the door.  
  
She packed what she could find from her bag. When they'd dug her out of the cemetery, she really had been so injured she didn't know her own name. Things had slowly come back to her through the course of the past few days, but she could use a week or so to recuperate. She wasn't going to give herself that, though. Jenny hadn't been lying about wanting to find the man who'd shot her in the head. First she'd make him tell her why that chip was so important that he was willing to kill her to get it, and why the Legion was interested in it, and then she'd shoot him with his own damn gun. And she'd sure as hell make sure that he wasn't going to climb out of his grave.

Jenny looked at the meager supplies she'd had on her and frowned. There was some water, which she was a little too suspicious of to carry with her, her delivery order, her old gun and machete, that rifle Sunny had given her, and … not a lot else. Didn't she have some letters on her? She thought she'd remembered seeing the letters she was supposed to send every day to her lieutenant at Seventh Recon. (Timeliness was not one of her virtues.) The man in the checkered jacket must have stolen them when he stole her delivery.  
  
As she took one last look around for anything she may have missed, she thought how lucky she was that almost no one in this cursed wasteland knew her. The Seventh Recon was safely back in the Hub and most of her delivery assignments with the Mojave Express had been in California. Maintaining her cover as the docile, amnesiac courier would be impossible if people kept walking up to her and going “Hey, aren't you that corporal who spent a week in jail for punching a superior officer in the face after he grabbed your tits?” She didn't know what Inculta would do to her if he found out she was with NCR intelligence, but she suspected that the rest of her life would be a) short and b) painful enough that she'd wish it was even shorter. Her previous life in Arizona had taught her that much about Caesar's Legion. They weren't people you wanted to mess with.  
  
Jenny would play along, make notes, feed him all the lies she could think up about the NCR's plans, and hope he'd be too interested in fucking her to put the pieces together. She didn't really have many other options. She could try to find Boyd and tell her what kind of a situation she'd found herself in, but the chances that he or one of the other spies would be watching her every move were too high. And honestly, some pretty intense sex and lies once a week wasn't much of a price to pay for the opportunity this gave her. Hell, maybe he'd end up trusting her enough to bring her to their main camp. Then she'd grab a machete and cut off Caesar's head herself. _That's for what your men did to my parents, asshole._ She'd be dead a few seconds later, but it would absolutely be worth it. They'd have to make a statue of her in Shady Sands. Maybe she could write a will and make a final request that Colonel Moore have to clean the bird droppings off of it every week. With her tongue.  
  
Jenny slipped out of the door, dreaming of the moment when she could drop her mask and show that arrogant jackass with the sexy voice and smooth tongue just who he thought he'd been manipulating. _Victoria._ Christ. What a bastard. But there was another, more immediate bastard to deal with. That man in the checkered jacket had headed through Primm, and she'd sworn to hunt him to the ends of the Earth. She'd deal with Inculta later.


	10. Chapter 10

“Looking for that girl?”

Vulpes looked up from the Nuka-Cola he'd been pretending to drink on the front porch of Trudy's saloon to find the proprietor standing above him, smiling. He'd made it back to the town to find most of the residents roused from their drugged and drunken slumber, and then had to wait a couple more hours until Sunny Smiles stopped pacing angrily through the center of town and questioning every resident who passed. She, at least, had suspected that something untoward had happened the previous night. Everyone else seemed to attribute their hangovers to the unfamiliar liquors.

“Yes,” he admitted to Trudy. “I'd wanted to see if I knew her.”

“Sorry to say it, but she skipped town sometime during the night, while the rest of us were asleep. Are you planning on trying to find her? She left something behind at Doc Mitchell's. If you're headed to Primm, you can probably catch up with her and give her this back.” Trudy handed him what looked like a bundle of letters.

“I will certainly endeavor to return her property, Miss Trudy,” he said. “Thank you again for your town's … hospitality.” An idea flashed before his eyes, and he pulled out a stack of papers from his own pack. “Say, could you distribute these to your patrons? My employers are running a bit of a contest in just a few days. A lottery, of sorts, down the road. The prizes are unbelievable.” He flashed Trudy a winning smile. “I do hope we'll see you there.”

Vulpes stopped just east of town to read the letters that the courier girl had left behind. They were intelligence reports from the area near the California border, a few from Primm and Nipton, rather more from the Mojave Outpost, and even one very brief dispatch about the last days of Camp Searchlight. They were mostly addressed to an unknown party in the Hub, and signed by a Corporal Genevieve Holloway. All except for the last one. The final report was in an even more untidy scrawl, and seemed to have been written in blue crayon, possibly by a brain-damaged monkey.

“To Lt. Carrie Boyd at Camp McCarran

Help something went wrong on last mission. Shot in head twice, can barely walk. Stuck in town called Goodsprings. They won't let me leave. Fucker who shot me took my delivery too. Help.

Love Jenny”

Amnesia. Right. And he almost fell for it.

But this could work out well. The girl – Jenny – obviously thought she could manipulate him for information. She didn't know that he had found out who she served. He could keep this going, have his fun and listen to the lies that she'd almost certainly be feeding him when they met again. And he'd give her lies right back, ones that she'd funnel straight to her masters at the NCR. She'd lead him right to the Platinum Chip before he revealed his true allegiance. Afterward, she'd happily follow him through the gates of the Fort, believing that she'd struck gold, that she'd gotten the trust of the Legion. And then the trap would snap shut.

Joshua had broken a Brotherhood paladin and made her a pet, after all. No reason Vulpes couldn't do the same with a NCR spy. It would take longer than if she'd really forgotten everything, but it would be infinitely more entertaining.

But first things first, he decided, setting off to the southeast again. Caesar would want to see these reports, but the lottery was only a few days away. Time would be tight. Nipton first, then back to the Fort, then meet up with the courier girl. But before all that, he had to tell his men in the hills that he'd changed his mind about the two women from Goodsprings. Something instinctual was telling him that Trudy would be useful. She'd run like a scared rabbit from Nipton to the Mojave Outpost the moment she 'won' the lottery and tell the NCR all the lurid details. And as for the other one …

A grinding noise, a crack, and a muffled curse indicated that Sunny Smiles's daily gecko hunt was not going well. She was down on the ground by an old well, clutching a bleeding leg and swearing. Perhaps he'd take a day or so and teach her something about proper weapon maintenance, and about kindness to strangers. That highway patrol station and its jail cell had to come to some use, after all. It couldn't hurt to practice for the future.


End file.
